


Tangle

by yeaka



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Ficlet, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-27
Updated: 2020-01-27
Packaged: 2021-02-27 04:28:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,115
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22441084
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yeaka/pseuds/yeaka
Summary: Kamski takes Carl home.
Relationships: Leo Manfred/Markus
Kudos: 25





	Tangle

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I don’t own Detroit: Become Human or any of its contents, and I’m not making any money off this.

“You’re too hard on yourself,” Elijah muses, stepping in behind the wheelchair as soon as the car’s rolled it out. “The piece was still beautiful. Everyone else thought so. They thought it eleven million dollars worth of beautiful, in fact.”

“You just proved my point,” Carl gripes. He waves his hand dismissively, his sleeve falling down just enough to show the years of tattoos carved into his sagging skin—yet another thing that makes him so much more _unique_ than all the pretty faces Elijah’s usually surrounded with. “It’s not about the _art_ anymore, just the money. If I have to hear one more simpering idiot talk about the value of my work... I think I’m just sick of hearing other people talk about _me._ The party itself was enough.”

It hasn’t really been _the_ party; it’s been dozens in the last few months: all collectors doubling down on their pieces before their generation’s greatest artist bites the dust—preying on him like vultures. Usually, Elijah sees Carl roll in with his android—the special prototype Elijah gave to him that’s seemed to prove oh-so-useful. But that android always sticks loyally to Carl’s side, like an obedient puppy on a particularly short leash, and it took replacing it as Carl’s entourage to finally get Carl alone. The few insights they shared on the drive there and back were worth it; Carl has a fascinating mind—one of the few that can still keep up with Elijah, yet show inspiration the way machines never can. And what Elijah’s most curious about is: “How are things with Markus?”

His steps deliberately slow as he waits for a response, the grand manor rising up before them and signifying an end to their day, though the sun’s still high and bright. The gardens are beautiful—no doubt tended by Markus’ careful hands. Carl doesn’t take long to answer. 

“Excellent. Thank you for him, Elijah. He’s proven an invaluable member of the family.”

 _Him. He. Member of the family._ Carl has a curious way of seeing his machines, but that’s part of the intrigue—any android raised in Carl’s colourful menagerie is sure to come out different than one raised in Elijah’s studious clutches or the clumsy hands of the public. Although, Carl isn’t the only element in his unintentional case study—“And what about your son?”

This time Carl does hesitate, right until they reach the doors, which part with a smooth greeting. Carl talks over the melodic voice: “Well, they don’t see each other much, but things are simple enough.”

So it’s all going well, then. An android fitting right in, hardly distinguishable from a human being by Carl’s account, although Carl seems to have taken to Markus more than he has any actual human being. Elijah might consider himself one of Carl’s closest friends, and Carl looks at Markus with a fondness he doesn’t show Elijah. They cross the threshold, and something thumps in the other room, followed by muffled fussing through the wooden door. It sounds loud, angry even, not Markus’ gentle timber. Elijah’s only met Carl’s son a handful of times, but he has a good ear and can place the voice. Carl sits up a little straighter in his chair, and Elijah makes the executive decision to stroll forward, triggering the door to the living room.

It slides smoothly back, and Leo’s growl floats right through: “So you’re that ashamed of me? The second you hear a beep in that plastic brain of yours you scramble off like this was nothing—”

Markus opens his mouth as though to respond, but then he sees Elijah and Leo and falls quiet. He must’ve been notified when Carl entered the house. That must be why he’s standing beside the couch, halfway through pulling his pants back on. The tight briefs he wears underneath clearly outline his problem, telling Elijah exactly what they walked in on. The rest of him is bare—his bronzed chest perfectly chiseled and pink with a few stray streaks from preying fingers, red circles glistening with spit and the grooves of teeth, even a blue-stained scratch under his chin. His gorgeous body practically shines in the glowing sunlight through the tall glass windows, and there’s a small moment where Elijah mentally pats himself on the back, because _he_ sculpted that gorgeous creature all on his own.

He doesn’t blame Leo for being completely naked, sitting on the sofa, a pillow over his lap. His head swivels around to Elijah and his father, his cheeks blushing a bright red—something Markus can simulate but hasn’t. Unlike Markus, Leo’s slick with sweat and clearly breathing hard; it’s all too obvious what was happening only a few minutes ago. Carl seems stunned to silence, and Leo uses that chance to hastily pull his pants back on. He snatches up his shirt and boxers while Markus is pulling his sweater over his head. Leo doesn’t even bother getting fully dressed. He carries his bundle of fabric against his naked chest and uses his other arm to shove Markus as he passes. Markus stumbles, LED flashing yellow. Leo spits out a slur under his breath that no one corrects, because the rest of them are staying right there, looking at one another as Leo storms off and away.

Markus closes his eyes. He looks _pained_ —a remarkably empathetic reaction, something the Chloes have never truly mastered. Elijah can feel his own pulse racing with excitement, because this is new. People fuck their androids all the time. But not like this. Markus murmurs, strained, “Carl...”

Carl grabs the sides of his chair and wheels himself forward. He looks up at Markus, just as distressed, and hoarsely says, “You don’t have to do that, Markus. You don’t have to let him do anything to you that you don’t want.”

Markus seems to struggle with his answer. He should never struggle with anything. But his eyes are palpably conflicted when he quietly answers, “It’s not like that, Carl. I’m fine. I’m _sorry._ ”

Carl doesn’t look like he believes it. He looks like he found his two sons torturing each other instead of his real son fucking a puppet. It’s so much more complicated than Carl clearly thought. Elijah would love to see the aftermath of that fallout, to examine all the different threads and emotions drowning in this whirlpool.

But he respects Carl too much to luxuriate in Carl’s pain. He has his surface data, and that has to be enough. He murmurs, “I’ll see myself out,” and Carl barely seems to hear him. 

Elijah turns to go, knowing he’ll have to check in on his first prototype far more often.


End file.
